prominence in Missouri had been preparing for a year to take his family to the Oregon country. Perhaps, suggested the friend, Lyle would meet Miss Scott on the plains. If not, he must be sure to find her in Oregon. Lyle smiled at the pretty name—Ellen Scott—and tucked the neat, handfolded envelope into his wallet—nor guessed that it had been inscribed by the hand of destiny.
It was by the Platte that the two wagon trains en camped and Ellen Scott and John Lyle met. She was twenty—as free from care as he—the journey to her a long galaday. Hearts were young and eyes were bright and there were merry hours around the campfires at night within the barricade of covered wagons, beneath the starry, open skies. There was dawn, and noon, and twilight in which to talk of adventure and dangers braved and of the high sweet hopes that were winging toward the land of the setting sun. Love came then as now with roseate promise.
Ellen Scott was one of a family of fair people, tall and of dignified presence. On the way to Oregon were Felix Scott, his wife, Ellen, three daughters, Ellen, Harriet and Juliet, and the sons, Felix, Junior, Marion, Nimrod and Rodney. The father was a Virginian by birth but was driven by tireless energy to seek adventure. Felix, Junior, and Marion like their father became known in pioneer days for generous initiative and intrepid spirits. In 1850 Felix, & lad in the early twenties, was sent by his father from Oregon across the plains with bags of gold dust from the California mines with which to purchase horses and cattle of good stock in Missouri. He accomplished the journey and, accompanied by relatives, returned with one of the first importations of livestock brought across the plains. In 1862 he opened a wagon road across the McKenzie Pass, a feat regarded as impossible even by expert teamsters who had swung their wagons across the Rockies. The achievement is commemorated at McKenzie Bridge by a stone bearing
